Sedentary Lifestyles of the Once Dangerous
by toomuchconflict
Summary: Five years after the fact and just one week between the two of them. People change in stutters and false starts; and sometimes not at all.


He didn't recognize her until she spoke. Why should he have: the thief he remembered had always worn a hood. She sidled up next to him, smiling in greeting, careful of the sticky surface of the bar as she hailed the bartender.

He had felt no apprehension. She was familiar, but not in any way that was cause for alarm. Nothing strange about that: he'd been around. If he jumped every time, he would be going gray by now.

"You know, I make a habit of looking on the bright side of things, but I can't exactly say you've gone up in the world," she said.

Jacob stared into his terrible green drink, trying to keep the consternation away from his face.

"Kasumi," he said and stopped fighting the frown. The salarian bartender plonked down her drink, moving on to the single customer on the other end of the bar.

"In the flesh," she said in a playful tone. Jacob glanced up at her as she tilted the tall glass in her hand, watching the color of the drink change shade in the garish lights from overhead.

"These things taste terrible, but I always was a sucker for parlor tricks," she said, before taking a careful sip.

Jacob knew better than try and figure her out, but he still found himself leaning back for a better look.

If he hadn't moved up, she certainly looked like she had. She was decked out in a long red dress, flowing streams of golden jewelry wrapped around her neck and wrists. Her hair was cropped short, except for a long even fringe that obscured her eyebrows. Just about the only thing recognizable about her was the purple bit of make up on her lip.

Noticing his squinty-eyed scrutiny, she leaned back to look him over with mock mimicry.

"So. Horizons, huh?" she said, pointing her drink at the stylized salarian script on the front of his armor.

Jacob glanced down at the emblem. He'd never liked it, thought it far too elaborate, especially for a small group like the Horizons were. He found himself just about ready to tear it out under the eyes of a former shipmate.

He held himself in check, just a terse shrug before downing a mouthful of the green stuff. "It pays the bills."

"Ah," she said sagely, though unable--or unwilling--to keep the amusement out of her eyes.

"What brings you to a backwater like this?" Jacob asked, still terse. "And don't tell me business."

Kasumi turned away from him. Her lips were twitching into a downright wicked smile.

"Afraid you'd have to arrest me? Hmm." She looked thoughtful.

He let out a sharp chuckle. "Don't worry, I'm off duty."

"I figured. Didn't think they'd be fine with officers drinking on the job, even out here."

"Not exactly an officer, but you get the idea."

She hummed, still avoiding his question. Jacob took another drink, the last he had planned on.

He could just walk away. Make the short walk to his apartment, fall to bed, wake up in the morning, don his armor and do his duty. Get the bad guys, help the helpless; do the right thing, be needed.

The end of the world was out of his hands, had been for years now. Never had been really his to decide, if you got down to it--but everyone had illusions of grandeur in their youth. He made a difference here, even if bit by bit. If the world still existed tomorrow, so would injustice on this pointless planet he almost called home.

He pushed his glass away, but didn't rise from his perch against the bar. Instead, he watched Kasumi from the corner of his eye.

She was playing with her drink, running a finger over the edge of the glass. Carefree, the weight of the world not on her shoulders either.

She noticed him watching, and smirked. "What? You said I couldn't talk business."

He snorted, shook his head at nothing in particular. "So you are here to steal something."

"Oh, not at all," she reassured him. "I'm on the run, actually. Very exciting."

"On the run," he repeated, a smile of disbelief forming on his lips. "In high heels. And it's business?"

"It's a long story," she said airily, "and trust me; not nearly as interesting as it sounds."

He sighed, gave in, and signalled the bartender for another. "I've got all night, if you're up for it."

She smiled and scooted just a bit closer. "Well, when you put it like that..."

* * *

He woke up still in his armor, the unfamiliar smell of coffee filling his senses.

Kasumi had apparently decided to make up for staying on his couch by pottering around his pathetic excuse of a kitchen. He usually ate straight off the shelf or at work--hadn't even realized there was anything edible _in_ his kitchen. Kasumi laughed, tapped her nose, and shoved a bowl of blue gruel into his hands.

He left her with some quip about not taking anything out of his apartment, and she ended up camping on his phenomenally ugly (her words) couch for a week.

She had been a strange presence on the Normandy, always stealing away before you could properly realize she'd been there in the first place. When he came back from work, he was surprised to find her still on that couch--at least on the first night.

Work had been mostly pencil pushing, preparing for the raid on the asari nightclub uptown. Jacob had whiled away the day by imagining the various ways his biotics could send Sala flying. The close-minded salarian was trying his damndest to integrate himself into the inner circle, just barely drawing the line at openly prostrating himself at the Captaincy's feet. He was running on some backward agenda to bring back the days of salarian dominance: even though the Horizons were a middling merc group at best; even though there were more humans and asari than salarians on the planet these days; even though the place had been a gateway planet into the Terminus systems, rather than a salarian colony, for more generations than either race could rightly remember.

At least nobody really took the idiot seriously.

So there he was: too frustrated for the usual drink after work, too distracted to remember the thief he'd left in his apartment--too tired to react with anything beyond a confused frown when he walked in and saw her still on the sofa, curled into a ball, her eyes glued to a horror vid playing out in the middle of the room.

She waved off the projector with one hand as the door slid closed behind him, turning the room dark.

"Oops," she said, a smile in her voice. "Sorry. I was going for atmosphere. Lights!"

Jacob chuckled into the darkness, shaking his head in exasperation, and passed his hand over the light switch near the door. "Not on my salary. These are old colonial prefabs. The nicer buildings are all uptown."

"Well, at least the salarians build 'em sturdy," Kasumi quipped.

She had spun quite a few tales in the bar, each more fantastic as he refused to believe the last. The truth? She didn't tell; he didn't ask. He had the space, and he liked to believe she would have done the same for him. The kind of stuff they had been through made you comrades for life--if not in practice, then at least in spirit.

Or some rot like that. Maybe he just enjoyed the company, maybe he had more regrets than he wanted to admit. Jacob didn't make a habit of looking too closely at his own motivations, went with what his gut knew was right. It kept things simple, kept things going.

The two things he had managed to glean from her, were that it was serious and that she had somehow managed to drop everything but the clothes on her back.

When he came home on the second night, she had fashioned herself a skirt from one of his old t-shirts. One that, again, he didn't even really remember owning.

"You're appropriating my wardrobe now?" he said with half-hearted alarm, hauling a bag of groceries toward the kitchen. Kasumi followed him, a slight spring in her step.

"You should consider it reparation for all the good habits I'm making you pick up. I mean, really; have you been eating instant all this time?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow, looking from Kasumi to the can of 'Instant Meatloaf' in his hand.

She rolled her eyes. "Now, I know there's a fresh food market right around the corner."

"It's good stuff," he defended himself, going back to unpacking. "Freeloaders don't get to complain."

"Hey, I'm not freeloading," she protested and, after a moment's hesitation, ambled over to help him put away the groceriess.

"I'll leave you my earrings when I leave," she continued nearly half an hour later, as they were finishing their plates of spaghettios. She pushed around a glob of sauce on her plate. "They'll buy you weeks upon weeks of disgusting food."

"Nah, that's alright," he drawled, spearing a bit of macaroni on his fork. "I'm already expecting to come out of this with lighter pockets."

She laughed, quick and a little derisive--amused by his droll sense of humor, unaffected by the jibe contained within.

He got out early the next morning, stopped by a store to grab a few credit chits to leave for her. Work was pointless again, a stakeout that went nowhere. He would have to seriously consider visiting the shooting range at this rate.

There was a wall scroll hanging between the doors to the bedroom and the kitchen, immediately visible as he stepped inside his apartment. It depicted two large stylized fish, pure white with orange and black spots. It looked old and distrubingly expensive.

"Don't worry, it was a steal," Kasumi said from her usual perch on the couch. She rose languidly, took a step--then stopped and held up her hands. "Not that I mean that literally."

Jacob frowned at her attire. She was wearing a black dress cut just above the knee--not exactly what he'd meant with the creds. "Maybe you missed it, but I'm not exactly made out of money."

She shifted her weight, briefly unsure, but covered it quickly with a nonchalant shrug. "I got all I needed _and_ restocked your fridge. I haven't bankrupted you, I promise."

She picked up a bottle propped up next to the couch, holding it up with a conciliatory tilt to her smile. "I just thought it was a shame. Such old friends, and we haven't had a chance to catch up. You can afford to splurge a little, I'm sure."

The bottle was dark green, tall, with a label that looked like real paper. Jacob rolled his shoulder, suddenly aware of a knot of tension on his back.

Wine went straight to his head. Kasumi waited, the image of patience, though her smile was growing. Eventually, Jacob shrugged.

He woke up on the living room floor the next morning, staring blearily up at the fish-thing on the wall.

"Fish," he mumbled to himself, rising to sit, taking great care to do so slowly. "Why fish?"

"They're called _koi_. They're pretty," came Kasumi's equally stuffy voice. She was sprawled out on the sofa, though Jacob could only see the one skinny leg sticking out over the armrest.

He blinked, raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "My memory cuts out right after... that thing with Grunt and the football. The hell was in that stuff?"

Kasumi's foot twitched. "I dunno. It was pretty cheap."

"Great," Jacob grunted, crawling over to the sofa to use it as prop to stand. Kasumi smiled blightly up at him, her hair a mess and the hem of her dress riding up high over her thighs. Jacob spent an unsteady moment staring at dark cloth against pale skin, his impressive headache keeping him from reaching a coherent thought either way.

He went lurching for the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. Kasumi sat up to give him space.

"Hope I didn't do anything too embarassing," Jacob filled the silence after a while.

"Naw. You're a very morose drunk," Kasumi said, her voice low and dark with some humor to which he was not privy.

* * *

She ambushed him right out the door, dragging him to the couch by one arm.

"You've got to see this!" Kasumi squealed--_squealed_. Jacob would never have expected it from a grown woman, but from her it seemed like nearly par on course.

Work had actually gone somewhere that day. Shots had been fired, but most of them as warning. The would-be-kidnappers were locked up, ready to be shipped off-world, and the victims were on their way home. Jacob almost found himself caught up in Kasumi's sudden enthusiasm, and let her guide him down with minimal fuss. She plopped down next to him, and leaned forward to set the projector to play a recorded newsreel.

The back of a vaguely familiar head swam into focus in the empty air, but the moody face staring out at them was what made Jacob's eyebrows shoot up. Their old commander was looking sullen and only a little worse for wear, an underlying current of tension obvious in his squared shoulders.

"_Commander Shepard,_" the reporter started, letting the name sink in with an overwrought pause.

Jacob let out a loud snort. "She just doesn't learn, does she."

"Oh, you've met before? I'll have to go digging through the archives," Kasumi said, turning back to the projection with a mischievous smile.

"_There have been many rumors circling the purpose of your recent return to the Citadel. Have you any comments?_"

Shepard tossed his hand. "_I don't have to justify myself to you, especially when it would just fall on deaf ears._"

"_Word on the street is that your position as a Spectre may be compromised, due to certain questions raised pertaining to your mental state. How would you respond?_" The reporter spoke very quickly. There was a rather obvious skip in the recording, as Shepard's expression jumped from sour to downright furious in a fraction of a second.

"_I've had it with your ignoble allegations!_" he snapped, and down the reporter went.

"_Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, hero of..._" she rattled on, her face suddenly superimposed over footage of Shepard walking away. Jacob couldn't help the guffaw at the reporter's conspiratorial tone, especially when coupled with the impressive bruise she sported over one eye.

Kasumi hummed, smiling. "I do think that was a little extreme, but I can't help but be strangely amused at the same time. I wonder if that makes me a bad person."

"I don't know," Jacob sighed, a smirk still on his lips. "But if this is wrong, maybe I--"

He frowned, suddenly leaning forward. "Wait, wait, back up a bit," he muttered, reaching for the haptic interface to rewind and then pause the image. In the background, to right of Al Jilani's head, Shepard had stopped to exchange a few words with an asari and a quarian. The asari had glanced toward the camera.

"Holy shit," Jacob found himself blurting. "I think that's Aria T'Loak."

"What? No way." Kasumi leaned likewise toward the video, squinting at the rough footage.

"Huh," she breathed after a while.

Jacob shook his head, sitting back again. "She's got real news right under her nose and doesn't even see it. I don't know if that's funny or sad."

Kasumi said nothing. Jacob looked toward her, confused at the sudden silence. She was watching him intently, with a strange faint smile tugging at her lips. Jacob raised an eyebrow in question, found himself fidgeting when she still didn't answer.

"You're really happy, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

He frowned. "Happy?"

She looked away in thought. "Maybe that's not the right word. Content. At ease. Settled."

Jacob was pretty sure he wouldn't like where this was going. "You're not making a whole lot of sense," he said, curt, trying to hurry her up.

Kasumi pulled her legs up against herself, resting her chin on her knees. "Out of everyone on the _Normandy_, I always figured you'd be among the first to go racing after the unknown. I had you pegged as quite the idealist, you know. A young knight in shining armor--but I maybe I've been underestimating you all along."

Jacob turned away as she spoke. "I can't tell if you're trying to pay me a compliment, or if you're just making fun of me."

That strange smile was back. "No, not making fun. You worry too much."

"Too many years dodging bullets, can't help it." He sighed and crossed his arms, considering her words. Damn her--he wasn't exactly a speech giving sort of person.

After a while of metaphorical stumbling around in the dark, he finally settled on just laying it out as it was. "Miranda has my number. If I'm needed, I'm there, no question. But meanwhile? On my own, I figure I'm about as big a threat to a Reaper as a fly is to soup."

"I see."

"Happiness?" He thought about it again, eyes narrowing. "I don't know. I'm doing what I can. I used to want..."

Justice, duty, honor. He'd wanted to change the world when he was younger, realized soon enough that it wasn't possible--but had never stopped. Still, he was done trying to live up to the morals of a man who had never truly existed outside the memories of a child.

"Maybe we're not exactly making waves, but Horizons is a good group. We get things done and we're run pretty tight. Not enough power on any one man for things to turn out like they did with Cerberus."

"Sorry. I really could have put it better, huh?" Kasumi said. She stared at the floor with a lopsided smile. "I'm a little jealous, I think. This is home for you. I'll never really know how that feels."

She unfolded herself, put her bare feet back down against the cool floor. She looked very small and fragile in the distorted light of the projector, but Jacob knew she'd faced the same horrors he had and some he never would. He finally felt like it was time to ask.

"You can't tell me, or you won't?"

"Can't--and yes, it's really that bad," she said. Her tone was light and casual, though she didn't sound quite as convincing as Jacob knew she could be. He began to frown and she hurried to fill the silence.

"There you go, worrying again. I'm not going to get you into trouble, Jacob; I'll be long gone before they so much as swivel an eyeball in my general direction."

"No," he said, fixing her with an intent gaze. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Kasumi seemed surprised, her expression briefly slack--then she grinned and leaned over to nudge his shoulder with hers. "There you are! Good old Jacob, ready and raring to save the damsel in distress."

The rest of the evening was whiled away with her teasing and his dry comebacks as they rewound the tape of their old Commander a few more times. They were reciting lines out of memory by the end, drunk on the unidentifiable atmosphere that hung in the air between them.

* * *

He never did find out what she was running from.

When he came home from work two days later--and just when he'd caved in and bought her instant ramen, of all things--almost all evidence that she had ever been there was gone.

He found her earrings and necklace set out deliberately over the kitchen counter. The fridge had been restocked. Other than that, it was the same old (and, yes, fine, ugly as hell) bachelor pad he'd gotten used to over the years.

The wall scroll grew on him--her absence? Not so much. It was a ridiculously romantic notion, one that took Jacob a good month to admit to himself--but in just one short week, she had managed to nudge his life irreversibly off its axis.

He missed her, and it wasn't just for the piece of his past she shared. In fact, what he found himself thinking back on were just about the strangest things: her low laugh in low light, her running commentary and--after he'd shushed her--the groans of annoyance when they tried watching a popular vid together... and sometimes, before he could stop himself, he remembered the contrast of her skin against the dark clothing she favored.

Three months and two weeks after she had gone, Jacob ran into Zaeed while investigating a pirate base near a neighbouring settlement.

Maybe he'd take a vacation. It was a small galaxy, after all.


End file.
